


Love Letters

by Linnea_Bjornberg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Completed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, First Person, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV First Person, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnea_Bjornberg/pseuds/Linnea_Bjornberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is away at a medical conference and Sherlock is bored, lonely, and feeling awfully sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Letter

The first night when John is gone is odd. I sit alone on the sofa, plucking at my violin absentmindedly, John isn't here for me to play for. To impress. To make happy. There's no one here at all, Mrs. Hudson has gone out for the evening. I'm completely alone. 

Alone. 

The word is familiar to me, yet foreign at the same time. I've been alone before, I've managed on my own once. It's been so long since then, though. So long since John came into my life and changed me. Made me feel. Made me human. 

It's not quite right to be thinking that I'm alone. I'm not alone, I do have John, but not right here with me. 

Just four hours ago I was laying in bed with John, curled up against him while he carded his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead. I really enjoy it when he does that, makes my eyes heavy, helps me sleep. I especially like it when he tells me that he loves me, though I'll never admit it to anyone other than myself. It pleases me when he whispers it into my ear at crime scenes, making Anderson and Donovan wonder. 

Their stupid minds jump to the oddest of ideas. Both of us, John and I, we think it's funny. Hilarious. 

I let out a quiet laugh at the thought of it. 

I loathe the lack of his presence. I've grown so accustomed to having him near me at all times; watching me, praising me, keeping me in line. He's become pivotal to my existence and he's not here. It's only for a week, but so far he's been gone for about two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and eleven... twelve... thirteen seconds. I'm wondering if Lestrade will call me with a case. If he doesn't, I'm not entirely sure what I'll do. Perhaps I'll stop by the morgue, start a new experiment. The usual. Routine.

Boring. Everything is boring without him.

John isn't here to watch me, listen to me, make background noises... He just isn't here. Instead he's on his way to Cardiff with Sarah. I still don't like her, though I know they're nothing more than colleagues. She's dull. 

John isn't dull. He never has been. Not to me. 

I sigh loudly as though someone can hear me, my obvious frustration. I'm bored. Incredibly bored. John's not been away for three hours and I feel like I'm going to go mad. Well, more mad than I already am. 

Mad. I know I'm mad, but I don't care. I can't be bothered to care. It's not important. 

I need John, and he knows I do. He needs me too. We both know this, but I'm pathetic. I hate being away from him when I know he's gone. Most times when he leaves, I don't notice. I go on talking to him as though he's right next to me. But this time I know he's not here and it bothers me. I don't like it. 

Without thinking my actions through, I pull out my mobile and write out a concise message. If I have even a quarter of the mind that I know I possess, I won't send it. 

But I do. 

"I miss you already. SH"

"You've only been gone for a little while, but it feels longer. Odd. SH" 

"Ridiculous, actually. SH" 

I send them rapidly, hoping the three text alerts will gain John's attention straight away. Apparently they do. I smile as my mobile vibrates two minutes and forty-five seconds later and shows that I have a new message from John. A tender warmth spreads throughout my body as I read the message. 

"It's not ridiculous at all. I miss you, too. I love you. JW" 

I take less than twenty seconds to send my reply. 

"I love you, too. SH"


	2. Second Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While John is away, Sherlock is having difficulty falling asleep. Turns out that he isn't the only one.

I'm trying to sleep, but the bed feels too vast. Too big. It's strange. I don't like it. 

I roll over and look at the clock. It reads 3:17. John is fast asleep by now; I wonder if he's sleeping well. I hope he doesn't have a nightmare. When John has nightmares, I'm always in the room with him. I always snuggle close to him and we tangle our bodies together. It calms him to know that I'm there. A reminder. He's not in Afghanistan anymore. He's in a hectic flat in London, sleeping in my arms.

Sometimes I wonder how he can stay with me. He sees horrible things with me on a daily basis, not as bad as the things he saw in the war, but still terrible.

This man is so very interesting. Always. Never bores me.

He enjoys it. The danger, the horror. He enjoys it like I do. Makes him feel alive. Excites me. We both need the chaos. The adrenaline coursing through our veins.

I provide John with plenty of it. Between my normal habits and solving crimes, the two of us generate enough chaos to burden a family for a lifetime. 

Although he needs it, the excitement, it still terrifies him. He still gets the worst nightmares of anyone I've ever met. I always wonder what he dreams of, but I never ask. I don't think that I really want to know about John's dreams. I don't want to make him talk about them, I don't want to make him remember. 

It's a strange thing about John. He craves danger, yearns to be on the battlefield; yet when he remembers, it horrifies him. He's full of contradictions. 

Beautiful contradictions. 

I must drift off, lose focus, something... It doesn't feel like I had been sleeping when my phone vibrates. 

I pick it up from the nightstand, silencing the noise its vibrations make against the wooden top. The screen is lit up to show that I've got a text. 

"Had a nightmare. JW" 

My heart sinks slightly as I read the message. It's nearly four 'o clock now, John will have to be getting up in a couple of hours to go to a meeting. This is no good, he needs to be well-rested. 

Another text. 

"I know you're awake. Please just talk to me. JW" 

He's upset. I'm not there to comfort him. To remind him. The best he can get is texts. 

"I'm here, John. Everything is okay. SH" I attempt to reassure him. 

Send. Wait. 

"Thank you. It's nearly impossible to sleep without you here. JW" 

I smile. I feel the same way, though I'm disappointed to know that John has more than likely only slept for an hour tonight. And within that hour he had a nightmare that scared him into consciousness. 

My poor John.

"The bed is too big. I don't like it. SH" 

"Same here, love. It feels too empty. JW" 

Exactly. It's horrible to grow so accustomed to having a partner share a bed with you, but then if they're not there the mattress feels too unusual to be comfortable. 

"Take me with you next time. The situation would be far more desirable for the both of us. SH" I offer, not sure how John will take it. 

"Okay. JW" He replies simply, obviously drifting back to sleep. 

I send a simple response, three words. Signed with a kiss. If he was here, I'd have kissed him until he fell back asleep.

"Sweet dreams, John. x SH"


	3. Third Letter

Coffee. Black, two sugars. Molly hands me the steaming mug, it's hot against my fingertips. I give her a small smile in gratitude and she hovers nervously. 

Molly has a date after her shift, no time to go back to her flat. She's wearing makeup and a small duffel bag that contains a change of clothes is resting against her desk in her office. I believe she'll be seeing Greg this evening. He recently broke it off with his wife for good and he's displayed obvious interest in Molly on several occasions before. I know it will go well for both of them.

"So, what are you working on today?" She asks sweetly. Like always. Molly is a nice girl. I can trust her. I've always trusted her. 

I turn back to the microscope and peer through the lens. Earlier that morning Lestrade had called me with a case, something to occupy me in John's absence. Elementary, I'd solved it in a few minutes. The case was so simple. So obvious. At least it was something. 

Once I'd finished at The Yard, I decided that I'd continue to occupy my time away from John with a trip to Bart's. There was always research to be done there, always labs to use. I adjusted the focus, squinting slightly. 

"Nothing." I reply. It's true. I'm simply observing random samples that I found around the lab. Classified, private... Taken from patient files. I couldn't care less. 

"Oh." 

I look up from the bacterium I've been watching under the microscope. "I'm simply watching." I clarify. 

Molly smiles and raises an eyebrow. "What is it, then?" She sounds curious, obviously trying to start a conversation. She knows that John is away--she knows I don't like it. 

She wants to keep me company. I don't exactly want it, but I also don't mind it. Normally I would, but sometimes it's nice to talk with Molly. She's tolerable. She's not a complete idiot. 

"Bacteria. From a file I found. I'll put it back when I'm done." 

I can see her frown out of the corner of my eye. Disapproval. I know that she'll let me look regardless of the fact that it's classified. 

My phone buzzes then and I look up from the bacteria that's squirming around in the dish. It's just past noon. 

John's on a lunch break. 

"Just got out of my first meeting. How's your day going? JW" 

I look up at Molly and she's smiling at me. Happy for me. Happy that I'm happy. She knows. She always knows. That's the thing about her that I like. Molly can read me, and I find it interesting. She always knows how I'm feeling. I smile back, genuinely this time. Thrilled that I've received a message from John. 

I tap out my reply in record time. 

"Had a case. Solved it in only a few minutes. With Molly now, observing samples from patient files. Dull. SH" 

"How is the conference? SH" I send as an afterthought.

It takes John longer to reply than I had expected. Fifteen minutes. He's busy, I know. But I still wish that I could have his undivided attention at all times. It's foolish of me. Childish. 

John would frown at me and tell me how unreasonable I am, but in the same breath he'd tell me he loves me anyways. Take my hand and kiss me. 

Because that's how we are, John and I. I'm unreasonable, but he doesn't mind it. Usually. I'm childish and he may get frustrated, but he won't be angry. Not always. 

Molly has gone back to her desk and is doing paperwork, she'll have a few new bodies by the end of the night. Maybe she'll let me take a liver home with me. That would be entertaining. I think it would be. John might not.

"Your day sounds like it's been much more exciting than mine. JW" I read John's message and let out a quiet laugh. Molly looks over to me expectantly, but I don't say anything. Instead I tap away at the keypad on my mobile.

"I can't imagine how exhilarating your meeting has been. SH" 

"Don't bother. You'd hate it. JW" 

"Not as much as I hate being without you. SH" 

I don't care how the message sounds. Both of us have proven that not seeing each other for more than a normal work day is more than difficult. Many people would find that unhealthy; obsessive maybe? Codependent? Some stupid bit of psychology that I never found relevant. Deleted it ages ago.

The way I see it is simple. 

I love John. He loves me. Deeply. Earnestly. 

"This conference couldn't be over soon enough. JW" 

I shake my head. It really couldn't. 

"Of course not. SH" 

"Only a few more days. JW" 

"I'm looking forward to it. SH" 

Molly shifts in her chair, glancing at the clock on the wall. She's anxious. Greg is as well, I noticed earlier. Their date will definitely go well, if nothing unexpected happens, of course. I doubt anything will.

"Good. I have to be off now, I'll talk to you later if you're not busy. JW" 

"I won't be. I love you, John. SH"

To my surprise, John texts me back. Judging by how quickly his reply came, he typed it in right as the speaker entered the meeting room. Something he'd do. Dangerous. 

Sort of dangerous. In a way. 

"Bloody Hell, man. I love you, too. I love you. JW" 

It makes me smile stupidly and re-read the text several times before I put the mobile back in my pocket and return to my observations. 

And that's how I spend the rest of my day. Sitting behind a counter in Molly's lab surrounded by files and samples. Observing and making corrections in the files until Molly has to leave. She does let me take a liver home. I can start an experiment while I wait for John to text me again. I'm looking forward to it.

Every so often I take out my mobile and read through John's messages over again.


	4. Fourth Letter

On the way home, I light a cigarette, but I put it out immediately. I’ve been doing well lately.John doesn’t approve of smoking. Bad idea to light one. I’ll have to make sure that I do the laundry.

I get back to Baker Street around eight ‘o clock. I’m not hungry, so I won’t eat. I put the liver that Molly donated to me in the refrigerator, still not entirely sure what I want to do with it. Maybe I’ll just leave it there until someone notices that it’s rotting.

That should be sufficient entertainment.

I make tea, though it isn’t nearly as good as John’s. It’s tough to be alone at the flat. Watered down tea and no one to talk to. I don’t feel like playing my violin, so I don’t. Tonight it will stay in its case, there’s nothing that requires my thought right now. And no one for me to play for.

Mrs. Hudson is downstairs, but she won’t come up. She was up here earlier, dusting. Cleaning up a bit. It’s sweet of her, but a few of my belongings are out of place. It’s bothering me, but not enough for me to get up and fix them back into an overwhelming clutter.

Some idiotic talk show is on and I watch it although I have no idea who the celebrity guests are. There’s nothing on that piques my interest. I’m only half paying attention, my lukewarm tea cooling quickly. I stopped drinking it after three sips.

It didn’t taste good at all, but the scent was nice.

I don’t think I’ll ever try to make tea for John, he’d drink it, but I know that it doesn’t taste good. And it certainly doesn’t compare to his.

John is far better at domesticity than I am. Though I do cook for him on occasion. It’s not hard.

By quarter-past nine, I still haven’t heard from John.

Possibly gone out for a drink with some colleagues. I know I don’t have to worry about some woman, so I won’t bother him.

If he’s tired after being in a conference all day, I’ll let him sleep. He didn’t sleep last night. Not really.

Neither did I.

After the show was over I reluctantly rose from the sofa to take a shower.

The hot water feels good running over me. I’ve always been fond of water, it’s a core element to life. To existence. The second most important when paired with oxygen. And the other gases that compose the air we breathe.  
I close my eyes and stand still, the water spraying out onto my face, trailing down the rest of my body. The warmth relaxes me, the smoothness.

I’ve heard many times that water has calming properties. It’s true.

The sound it makes, especially. That’s why I like rainy days. The sound of raindrops hitting a surface is mind-numbing. White noise.

My mind starts to wander. I go from wondering how the rest of John’s day went, to if Greg and Molly’s date is turning out as I had expected. To how painfully simple the case was today... Then to the liver in the fridge and what I should do with it.

Eventually my mind comes around a full circle and I’m back to thinking of John.

I’m completely aware of how far my mind has sailed, my rampant imagination, the images...

...John.

“When I get home, I’m going to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. JW”

His text comes after I decided to take a shower, I thought he’d just been too tired and fell asleep. Apparently not.

He’d better do just that. As soon as he steps inside, It’ll be nearly impossible to get me off of him.

John is guaranteeing that he’ll be all over me anyways.

And I don’t object in the slightest.

“I’ll kiss you again and again, all over. JW”

I feel my cheeks grow warm as I read the text and I pull on a pair of pants.

Turns out John can’t just wait for me to get dressed after I’m done bathing. It’s not his fault. He had no way of knowing.

I wouldn’t have waited to text him if I knew.

“I’ll kiss you as long as you like. JW”

“Until my lips fall of, at least. JW”

“And I’ll hold you as tightly as I can. Because I never want to let you go when I do hold you. JW”

“I want to run my fingers through those messy curls of yours until you fall asleep. JW”

“I miss your smell. JW”

This man is so unbelievable. So utterly absurd. I believe he must be drunk.

Though I know he isn’t. He has to go to more meetings in the morning.

I smile softly as I type out my response.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you? SH” I ask, meaning to tease him.

An almost immediate reply.

“No. I just want you know how much I want to be with you. JW”

“Because right now, more than anything, I want to be right where you are. JW”

“Sherlock Holmes, I love you. JW”

I struggle to find the words to describe this moment. All I can really think about is how ludicrous John can be. At times I think he may be more mad than I am. I like those times. I enjoy them quite a bit.

I’m shaking my head laughing at the texts being sent to me at lightning speed. 

They continue for the next three hours.

John professed his undying love to me in over ninety text messages until after one ‘o clock in the morning. 

Until he falls asleep.


	5. Fifth Letter

The next morning, I am awoken around ten-thirty. I hadn't fallen asleep until nearly five.

My phone is buzzing on the nightstand, long buzzes, not just one. Several. 

A phone call.

I shoot up in my bed, grabbing it quickly. I don't even check to see who it is calling before I answer. I want it to be John, I wish that it's John. He's probably in a workshop or something stupid. But still. I wish for it to be John on the other end. 

"Hello?" I answer groggily, my voice is rough and raspy from not being used since I left the morgue. 

I should speak more. 

But there's no one for me to speak to. 

"Good morning, my love." The voice belongs to none other than John Watson.

His voice is gentle, he's smiling. John knows he's just woken me up. 

I'm completely caught off-guard. I was expecting that it was Lestrade, maybe Mycroft. I didn't really think it would be John. He's supposed to be in some boring meeting about new medical technology advancements. I think. 

My mind is still running very slowly, hazy with sleep. "John?" I mutter stupidly as I rub at my eyes. 

He chuckles. "Yes, it's John." 

A sleepy groan escapes my lips. "Aren't you supposed... to be in some meeting?" I ask, trying not to sound too thrilled about hearing John's voice. I yawn. 

John is still smiling, I can tell by the way his voice sounds. He speaks to me with this voice often. 

It's soft, gentle. Loving. 

"We all decided to take a break, we'd been at it since seven." He replied. "Thought I'd give you a call. I didn't know you were still sleeping, though. Sorry for that." John apologized. 

It's fine. It's more than fine. 

I shake my head slightly, as though he's here, but remember he isn't. 

"Don't worry about it." I reassure him as I rub my face, trying to wake up more. "I'm surprised though." 

"In a good way, I hope." John teases through the receiver. 

"Of course it's in a good way. Always." I roll my eyes. 

A slight pause. 

I realize that I'd forgotten what John's voice sounds like. 

It's like that with everyone, though. It's difficult to describe individual voices. Once someone stops speaking, you don't remember their voice until you hear it again. After two days, you don't remember the sounds, but the tones. Whether the voice was rough or sweet, low or high, you remember those things. But you simply can't remember the exact sounds of their voice. Not usually, at least. 

Like when you forget what your own voice sounds like. That happens to me often. I know it's low in register, but I don't know how it sounds. 

As soon as I heard John's voice, I knew it was him. Although I'd forgotten what it sounded like. 

I'm glad to hear his voice.

"I almost feel bad." John says. "You're always so peaceful when you sleep. It's beautiful," He speaks to me easily. No one is around, then. 

I feel a small smile form on my lips. 

John continues speaking. "But when you wake up, oh, I swear you're the most gorgeous thing in the whole universe. And I'm not there to see it." 

"I'm not, though." I object, embarrassed by John's affection. I like it, but my face is burning now. 

"To me, you are. You're stunning, Sherlock. At all times of the day. No matter what." John counters, obviously not caring about my personal opinion. 

The man on the other end of the line is so wonderful. 

John is simply so wonderful. 

I'm smiling like a fool now. "You're so ridiculous." 

"No, I'm hopelessly in love with you." 

"Madly." I correct him. "You're madly in love with me. Hell, John, you're practically insane." I tease.

He laughs. "The both of us, we're madder than hatters. Crazily in love."

I agree, nodding my head with a soft chuckle. "We are." 

It's insane. It really is. 

"I love you, Sherlock. I know I say it all the time, it may be annoying to hear it now, but-" 

Hearing those words could never be annoying. I interrupt John, not allowing him to continue. Idiot. 

"I'll never get tired of hearing that. I love you, too."

"Good. Because I'll never stop telling you how much I love you." 

I've been smiling so long that my face is starting to hurt, but I don't stop. 

I can't stop smiling.


	6. Sixth Letter

I spend the rest of my day at The Yard with Lestrade and the idiot duo, Donovan and Anderson. I'm not particularly helping with anything, I'm simply there. 

I'm just there, sitting in Greg's office, looking through cases. There are none that are of any interest to me. I take out my mobile to check my email; still nothing. 

No texts, either. 

Apparently the date went well last night. Greg won't stop telling me about it. How delightful Molly is and how they've already got plans to go out again tonight. Maybe he'll kiss her, maybe he won't. He said that he's nervous about it. He has no reason to be. Molly fancies him quite a bit, she's horrible at hiding it. They're both so obvious. It's sweet. Greg and Molly make a good couple. 

Much better than Molly and Moriarty were, at least. 

The thought makes me grimace. Moriarty. James Moriarty. The Final Problem... 

I don't want to go back there. To those three years without John. 

But I do.

I remember how much I hurt him. 

I wonder if he's still in pain after what I put him through.

His forgiveness was not something that I deserved, or really even wanted, but he was swift. John forgave me almost instantly. I still don't understand how or even why he did so. 

When I came home, he was broken. So completely broken and lost. He was barely John. 

But when I returned, he became himself again. 

It nearly killed me to see him like that, I couldn't believe it. I never once thought that he'd become so lost... Yes, that's the appropriate word. Lost.

And I still struggle to forgive myself for ever causing John so much pain. I never wanted to hurt him, and I hope that he's never hurt again. So long as I can 

I've loved him from the very beginning. 

He's always been my John. No matter how many girls he's gone out with. 

He's always been mine, and I've always been his. Wholly. We just never said it out loud until after I revealed myself to him, just over a year ago now. 

But we've both always known it. 

I shake my head, attempting to clear my mind. That is all in the past. Everything is okay now. I'm okay, John is okay. We're both fine. It took time, but now we're fine. 

Greg shoots me a questioning look, but I wave my hand absently, dismissing any of his speculations. He looked a little worried. 

After giving up on finding a case, I sit in my chair watching the people around me. Observing, learning everyone's stories. 

It was interesting, most of the time. Most people, you'd never expect certain things. I know better, I always expect the strangest things. To minimize confusion, it saves time.

I hear from John again at six 'o clock that evening, a single vibration in my pocket. A text.

"And how is the most beautiful thing to ever exist doing this evening? JW" 

John is so unbelievable. 

"I'm doing just fine now that you're texting me. SH" I reply honestly. 

Sometimes I get myself into a sour mood, letting my mind wander back to my "death". I need to avoid that better. 

I wish I could just delete it, but I can't. It's such a significant part of my life. It's John and I. I can never delete anything about John. 

"You better be fine, I'd hate to hear that you're upset without me being there to make it better. JW" 

John makes everything better. Even through text messages. 

"Don't worry, I'm okay. Are you doing well? SH" 

I reassure John, let him know that I really am alright now. 

He's so wonderful. 

How can someone be so damned wonderful? 

"I'm miserable. JW" 

"Why are you miserable? Did you have a bad meeting? SH" 

"No, the meeting went just fine. You're not here. JW"

I really wish that I was. I detest being away from John.

Another text comes in almost immediately. 

"I want to be with you always. JW" 

I can hardly take it, not being with him now. I just want him to hold me. 

I ache with the urge to kiss him hard and promise him that I'll be his forever. I'm so in love with John that it's odd. I never thought I'd love anyone. Not like this. 

So strongly, so honestly. 

"As do I, John. SH" I reply, resisting the temptation to write several paragraphs, maybe pages, about how much I wish for the two of us to be together for the rest of our lives and even longer. If that were possible, of course. 

Though it's very stupid of me, I wish that we were immortal. Just John and I, at least. 

I'm an idiot. 

"I'm very happy to hear that. You don't know how glad I am right now. JW" 

"I'm simply stating a fact, John. I always want to be with you. SH" 

An incoming call from John, I answer it straight away. 

"Everything I said to you last night, Sherlock, I meant every word of it." He blurted out, his voice nervous. He's trembling. I can tell, his voice is shaking. 

"Of course you did, I know that." Obviously he meant it, I don't understand why he thinks that I doubt him. 

He lets out a sigh, relief? No... Not frustration, either. A deep breath. He's trying to calm himself down. 

"Sorry, I just- I love you, Sherlock." 

"I'll be with you forever, John. I promise. Or until you've had enough of me." I sigh. John has nothing to worry about. 

I worry that he doesn't know how much I love him. 

"I love you. I love you so very much, John." I say. "I always have and I always will. I love you, you idiot." 

He is an idiot. I've never given him a reason to worry. "I love you. I love you. I love you." I say it over and over again. 

I don't care that Lestrade has come into the room, I keep telling John that I love him until he understands. 

"I love you."


	7. Seventh Letter

"My train has been rescheduled. JW" 

I sigh as I read the message, damn this snow. It had started snowing when I left the Yard the night before, but I never thought it would continue this long.

"I really hoped to be home tonight. JW" 

"It's okay, John. You'll be back tomorrow, I'm sure. SH" 

The snow is still falling heavily, I suspect that John won't be able to return to Baker Street for another two days depending on the conditions tomorrow.

"No, it's not okay. I wanted to be home with you tonight. JW"

It really is beautiful outside, but I'm not able to enjoy it. 

If John were here I'd be playing him a piece on the violin while he sits in his chair with a hot cup of tea, his eyes closed, a fire going to keep us warm. He'd like that. John always likes those times. He loves to hear me play. I love to play for him.

"You'll be home soon. SH" 

"But not tonight. JW" 

"What is so important about being home tonight? SH" I ask, rather curious about John's fixation on this evening and how he won't be here. 

I want him home tonight as well, but there's nothing either of us can do about it. Normally he doesn't get upset over these sorts of things, usually it's me who'd get worked up over it. 

Though I suppose I am upset, since I'm curled up on the sofa. Pouting. 

Irrelevant. 

Why is it that John is upset? He's supposed to be the level-headed and understanding one. 

"Nothing, you'll find out when I get back. JW" 

"So it isn't nothing if I'm going to find out what it is. SH" 

I smile. John had plans for tonight. What sort of plans? These plans of John's are obviously meant to be a surprise. 

We both know he'll have me in bed within two minutes of his arrival. That can't be it. 

"It's a surprise. JW" 

"Yes, obviously. SH"

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I really wish that the flakes would turn to rain and melt all of the snow away. 

I want John to be home. 

I want to curl up with him on the sofa and watch that dreaded telly with him, play the violin for him. 

He'll be home soon. Just not tonight. 

Which is obviously important to John. And I still don't know why.

I hate surprises. 

"Why can't you just tell me? SH" I send, just wanting to know now. I'm much too impatient to wait. 

"Because I want to do it properly. JW" 

Do it properly? Do what properly? 

"You want to do what properly? SH" I attempt. 

"Oh no you don't. I'm not going to tell you. You need to wait and find out. JW" 

I let out a dissatisfied huff and looked out the window. Still bloody snowing. 

"You know I don't care about whether things are done properly or not. SH." I reply, trying again. 

"Yes, I know that, but this has to be done the right way. JW" 

I'm defeated, John is definitely not going to budge on this one. 

"It will be worth the wait, love. I promise. JW" 

He'd better be right. If there's one thing I dislike more than surprises, it's waiting. 

"But I'd be lying if I said that I'm not very irritated about having to change my plans and wait as well. JW" He sends after a moment. 

"But it will be worth the wait. SH" I respond, reassuring not only him, but myself as well. 

I'm sure it will be, well it better be. Whatever it is.

"Yes, it will. JW" 

I smile. John is very confident that I'll enjoy this surprise of his. 

We'll both just have to wait and see.


	8. To Love and to Cherish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter is dedicated to one of my lovely followers, Audrey, for her birthday! Happy birthday, deary! 
> 
> I would also like to thank everyone who has read this fic, and everyone who enjoyed it and kept wanting more! 
> 
> Surprise! There is a sequel in progress. I hope you all stick around for it. 
> 
> Thank you all so much! 
> 
> -Linnea xx

I spend the rest of the day texting John. Longing for him as he longs for me. 

It’s unfortunate, this weather. The snow. The flakes have still not stopped falling, the snow coating the streets of London in an alabaster shell. My breath fogs the frosted windows when I peer outside. It’s all beautiful. 

However, I am unable to truly appreciate it. 

The scenery is beautiful, but it’s keeping me from John. 

My John. 

I believe most people think that he and I are pathetic. It’s only been three days that we haven’t seen each other. 

They don’t understand. They never will. 

We’re odd together, as most eyes see us. 

The others fail to realize that we are a balance, perfectly aligned. He’s the calm to my storm, I provide him with the danger he craves. He keeps me in check, my moral compass. I provide him with insanity and disorder to contradict his fastidious nature. 

John enjoys it. 

John loves chaos. 

He loves me. 

"You mean more than anything to me. JW" 

"Absolutely anything. JW" 

"You're brilliant, you're wonderful. Beautiful, amazing. JW" 

"I'm so lucky to have met you, Sherlock. JW" 

These texts are declarations. John's declarations of my importance to his life. 

His love for me. 

He never has any particular reason for saying these things to me. He just says them because he wants to. 

Because he means every single word. 

I can never find the words to convey how much I love him, but he knows that I do. 

Like mad. 

I love him. He knows that, and it's enough. 

He doesn't expect me to proclaim my feelings for him in many words or actions, he knows that I'm, well, I'm myself. 

And John doesn't expect me to change that. 

I do my best, regardless. John's patience is a never ending relief. 

He's a godsend. 

"I love you so much. JW" 

The texts keep coming, and I am still struck for words. I don't know what to say. 

He's been doing this often over the past few days. 

The doorbell sounds and I hurry downstairs to answer. I wonder if it's a client and I wonder what would be so important that they require my services on an inclement winter evening.

I open the door carefully, not wanting snow to get inside, and peer out a bit. 

On the other side of the door, there isn't a client, but a man whose face I know all too well. 

John. 

He's beaming up at me in his parka, his hands shoved in his pockets to hide from the cold. 

"Surprise!" He laughs softly, throwing his arms around me as he stepped inside and kicked the door closed. There's snow melting in his hair, little droplets of water beading on the locks. 

"I thought that your train was cancelled." I murmur. I hug him close and nuzzle into that sandy blond hair of his, breathing him in. 

Once again, John has shocked me. 

He shakes his head and looks up at me with a big grin. "I caught a train here late last night. I wanted to surprise you." He cranes his neck, kissing my cheek softly, kissing it again and again leaving a trail until he reached my lips. 

John kisses me over and over, pecking at my lips, forcing me to speak between these quick moments. "I, uh... yes. I am very surprised." I mutter, kissing him back, my eyes fluttering shut.

His hands trail up my body, up my chest and around the back of my neck to keep me there. "I had you fooled." He breathes against my lips. 

Yes, he did. Crafty bastard. 

John chuckles and kisses me softly, his hands tangling in my hair. 

I don't know how I survived for three days without him. 

His lips on mine, his touches. John. 

I smile against his lips and he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine as he glances up into my eyes. His eyes are a stormy ocean, a deep blue, burning with an intense desire. Love. 

For me. Only for me. 

"I love you," He grins, rubbing his thumb along my cheekbone and kisses me once more. "Sherlock Holmes, I love you." 

John pushes away from me and takes my hands in his own, I offer a small smile. "I love you, too." I reply simply.

At that, John surprised me yet again, lowering himself onto one knee in front of me. 

My heart skipped a beat as he looked up at me with the biggest smile I've ever seen on him. 

"Surely you already know what I'm doing," He starts. 

I nod. Speechless. 

He laughs nervously and kisses my right hand. "I love you more than anything, Sherlock. These past three days have been Hell without you to curl up against at the end of the day." 

"Likewise, John." I smile, not entirely sure what to say. My face is hot. I'm blushing. 

The things that John does to me.

"I will love you for as long as I live and longer. I will love you to the bloody moon and back! Ten times, and twenty times more." He speaks softly, his breath tickling at the skin of my hand. 

I love this man. 

I break the hold he has on it and shift down on my knees in front of him, cupping his left cheek. 

"John Hamish Watson," I start, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, my lips barely brushing against the skin. "You are perfect. To me, you are my equal, my other half. My beloved. I love you with all of my heart, no matter how small it may be."

A quiet laugh escapes his lips and a momentary panic fills my body. 

Have I said something wrong? 

No. 

John kisses me. He understands. I haven't said anything wrong. 

He holds my face as I am holding his, pressing our foreheads together. "I love you with all that I am. There is not a single thing that I would not do for you," He sighs. "You, Sherlock, are the love of my life, and you always will be." 

I'm smiling like a fool. I must look like an idiot. 

The way John is looking at me says otherwise.

It's completely preposterous, but I feel as though he and I are the only two signs of life on the whole planet. 

Possibly the whole universe. 

John finally says it, he utters the one question I've been anticipating for the past several minutes. 

"Will you marry me, Sherlock?" 

My heart is racing, my whole body is hot. I don't even think about my answer. 

I nod, choking out a hurried "Yes, of course, you idiot!" not even a second after he asks and attack his lips with my own in an eager kiss. 

He didn't even have to ask. 

As far as I am concerned, marriage is an archaic tradition in which person A becomes the property of person B. 

I don't care, I've thrown those beliefs out the window right at this very moment. 

John and I will be married, and we will sign papers. 

We will speak our vows to each other in front of as many witnesses that will fit in the church. 

The very vows we had spoken to each other not even a minute ago. 

I love John with all of my tiny heart and he loves me to the moon and back. Thirty times, if not more.


End file.
